Biting Down
by DramaDramaDrama
Summary: Labeled as insane, Rosemary's family leaves her behind at a mental home at the age of thirteen. Life soon becomes meaningless to her; she dreams of suicide. But as hopeless as her situation may seem, only three years after her arrival salvation miraculously appears in the doorway... in the form of a certain golden-eyed pixie.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I am not making any financial gain from this, and no copyright infringement is intended.

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_Biting Down_

Prologue

What do you feel in that one moment, in that one tragic moment when you realize that you have been betrayed by the people you have trusted most? What do you feel when you find out that they see you as nothing but a handicapping weight on their shoulders? When you all of a sudden know they cannot truly love you the way they have told you? What do you feel when you see their faces contort into masks of shame infront of your very eyes? When there are no explanations, no apologies, no last hugs, only everlasting, heavy silence?

Myself, I was too numbed to feel anything.

We were inanimately sitting there, inside mother's old blue VW Polo that smelled faintly of disinfectants and perfume, my what I once had thought to be loved ones awkwardly staring at their feet while I stared at them, my jaw dropped in disbelief and shock. Even June, my seven year-old sister. My sweet, innocent June... even she had betrayed me. Why? The question rang through my mind like an annoying ringtone. What had I done to raise my own family against me? The very idea seemed impossible to me.

Until a few short seconds ago, that was.

"Why?" I finally whispered, staring blankly at them. "Where did I go wrong?"

But I wouldn't be honored with an explanation, or even a justification. Not a single word left their lips, not a single tear drop or nod visible to me. Then again, it wasn't long before my observations forcefully came to an abrupt end. Before I knew it, two strong pairs of arms were pulling me out of my car, the car, the car of a family I no longer belonged to. I screamed, hoping I would be let go of, but in vain. My family still couldn't pain themselves with taking a last glance at the girl they had once called their beloved daughter and sister.

"Look at me!" I desperately cried, tears blurring my vision. This wasn't a dream. It was the dreadful reality.

And they were _really_ leaving me behind.

The grip on me tightened, growing more violent by the second. "LOOK AT ME!" I miserably shouted one last time before being pulled into the idyllic thirties style house that was surrounded by a thick line of pines, while the art nouveau glass door was shut behind me. I couldn't bring myself to stop screaming until I finally saw the familiar blue car drive out of the driveway several minutes later from the small barred window of the perfect square of a room which I know was able to call my own. To any bystander, I would have probably passed as insane.

Maybe that was why my family had left me behind in this living hell.

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_This idea has haunted me for weeks now... I just felt like I needed to write it down. I hope you enjoyed the prologue. Reviews are most cordially welcome... :) _


	2. Misinterpreted

**Disclaimer**: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I am not making any financial gain from this, and no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

_Biting Down_

Chapter 1 - Misinterpreted

The hours until my next medication, when I would finally slip into a familiar, carefree state of apathy, passed as dreadfully slow as ever. It was still early morning, I could see that from the way the sun stood in the sky; low, and surrounded by clouds of red and indigo. I was probably the only person awake already, except of the insomniacs, of course. It was going to be a fateful day, I just knew it.

How easy that was said, "It was going to be a fateful day". The truth was, sadly, much more complex. If it weren't, I would probably be lying in the bed of my room at home now, listening to my favorite music on full blast the way I had liked to do it a long time ago while mother brought me breakfast in bed- but alas, it was. And truth be told: I was, at least in the eyes of the nurses and my family, insane.

During my first few months here, I couldn't comprehend it; I wasn't insane. I didn't hear voices, I didn't have visions, didn't pretend to be a rebirth of Jesus, didn't not have the capacity of thinking rational thoughts. I had always been nice to everyone. I slept well. I was normal, at least where psychologists were concerned.

Then, after about four months, when Nurse Ryerson had brought me dinner and medication in the evening, I had managed to take a quick glance at the door. There had been a silver sign attached to it. The image was permanently burned into my mind.

_521_

_Lokwood, Rosemary Lillith_

_born May 5th, 1998_

_Heightened Intuitivity, precognital tendencies_

_Possible Schizophrenia_

It was that moment that something clicked inside me; I knew then why my family had betrayed my trust by bringing me here.

It had started on my eleventh birthday party, when suddenly an overwhelming sensation had overpowered my logic; the neighbour's dog would get run over by a car, I had just inexplicably known. And it was. Exactly ninety-one seconds after my epiphany, the birthday party came to an abrupt end at the sight of the bloody carcass on the street.

There were other small incidents after the first one. At first it was passed off as a trick or joke of mine by my family, but eventually the assumptions ended. What was scary was that everytime I just knew something again, somebody came to harm.

I had known that Amy Kindersen from my grade would fall from the stairs and break her leg. I had known that father would cut his finger while opening a bank letter. I had known that my gym teacher would get a basketball thrown at her face and suffer from a concussion. I had known, and I could not prevent it nevertheless.

Those incidents, though, as unsettling as they were, were no reason to leave your firstborn daughter behind at a mental home. Something else, tragic, had happened to prompt this dramatic solution.

It had happened four months before my arrival at the home, when I had just grown thirteen. To understand what I will tell you, you must know that my sister June is a very shy, sensitive and loving person. In her entire seven years of life up to that point three and a half years ago, she had only one friend. Her name was Eve.

June and Eve were inseparable. They looked and acted like twins, with their similar angelic blond manes and kind green eyes. The twins, we would alas call them. They were a true joy to be around; I had seldom witnessed as much happiness as the twins had within them. They had an aura of happiness, you could say. You just couldn't be sad around them, it was physically impossible.

And then the tragedy occured.

I had known it of course. And once I did, panic filled me. What was I supposed to do? I loved Eve as much as the next person. So, in my blind trepidation, I ran to my mother. A fatal mistake, as it would later turn out, but what was I to do? I had been nothing but a child, I had been powerless...

One month later, Eve Hughes died of leukaemia. Mother had ignored my warnings, thinking of it as a cruel joke. June was in a state of shock. Mother and father refused to talk to me for two weeks after the funeral. Maybe they thought I had done it willingly; I will never know. The only thing I truly knew was that the aura of happiness had irreparably vanished.

Four months later they had dropped me off at the mental home, telling me we were going to an amusement park.

Could I blame them? I didn't know. The truth, of course, was that neither Amy's broken leg, nor father's paper cut, nor my gym teacher's concussion, nor June's early death were my fault. I only mysteriously knew ahead of time. And they had misinterpreted it. True, maybe they should have at least _talked_ to me about this before abandoning me. But blaming them wasn't going to help me, was it?

I was sixteen now, three years older than when I first arrived here. I had never looked an angel, contrarily to my sister, and my current living situation didnt exactly help. I was a slender figure, too slender to look healthy, with messily cropped short black hair and weary-looking blue eyes. At first I had tried to keep myself as good-looking as possible, but I had given up the fight as time passed. What for, anyway? The only people that saw me where the nurses, therapists and other patients, and I was sure that they had seen much worse. This was a mental home, after all. There was absolutely nothing, as absurd as it sounded, that could come as a surprise here. It was almost like wonderland, in that way. But maybe that was just me trying to see my imprisonment optimistically.

My family had not once bothered to visit me. I was probably dead to them; and while I rotted in my cell, they lived a carefree, happy life. I wondered if June had found another friend. She must have been ten and a half years by now, a secondary school student. I'd love to know what became of her; ironcially, as I was sure that she would rather hate to know what became of me. Maybe I was the dark shadow haunting her dreams, the evil sister that had killed her friend. Again, I'd never know.

Sometimes, I dreamed of suicide. What kind of a life was this I was living, anyway? Whatever it was, it definetely wasn't worth living. _If_ I ever would leave the home, and that was a tremendously big 'if', what kind of life would await me? No diploma, only a useless seven years of school and god knows who many in a mental home on my CV. No man would ever want to be with me... I would very likely be considered repulsive, a freak. Maybe I would get a job at McDonald's, or something of the sort. Work my arse off and earn hardly enough to pay the rent. Was that a life worth living? The answer was so obvious it hurt.

And with death I would find oblivion.

A knock on the door was heard, pulling me from my slightly worrying thoughts. "Come in" I said, turning my head towards the doorway.

"Hello dear" Nurse Ryerson greeted me as she entered, tablet in hand. She was a polite elderly woman, with long grey hair she liked to wear in a bun and a pair of round glasses constantly resting on her thin nose. "I've brought you your food and medication."

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Carelessness. Apathy. Sleepiness. Joyfulness.

It was only fifteen minutes since the friendly nurse had left, and the drugs were already working up to their full potential. I sighed in relief. My daily four hours of drug caused happiness had begun.

Life was good.

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_That's it for now. Sorry that it's so short... I hope you enjoyed it and understood her background story anyways. As always, reviews are most gratefully welcome... :) _

_Thank you to Wersa12345 and Marie for reviewing the prologue._


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